


the cartography of a soul

by songs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, i promised i'd write a kiss and this is what happened, implied galra!keith, post-wormhole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songs/pseuds/songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly, Lance's chest hurts. Keith's voice is so hoarse and hesitant. And Lance— Lance knows there's a right thing to do. He should say, "You're human," should say, "you're still one of us." Should comfort the boy he's holding, cradling— <i>in your arms, in my hands.</i> He should tell Keith something poignant, profound: "I don't care if you're a paladin or an alien. None of that matters. You're Keith. And that's that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cartography of a soul

☆☽

 

Lance misses being able to sleep.

 

You see, at any given time, Lance is missing something. Someone. It's part of his personality. Perhaps it's his fatal flaw. Every hero has his _hamartia_ , or whatever-the-hell it's called. Lance's is this: he is a creature of habit, of wanting, of normalcy. Crappy, structured mealtimes at the Garrison. The duck-pond by his mother's house. The windchime sounds of his sisters' laughter.

 

 _Ah_. Lance and his unmet yearnings.

 

Most recently, he's been aching for the Before. The start, the thrills, the excitement of Voltron and paladins and starship-wars. _We're saving the world_ , he'd thought at first, _we're going to be great._

 

But nowadays, it's as though everyone's awoken from a long, sweet dream. Between the wormhole, the blood, and the myriad of discoveries, Voltron feels like something else entirely. A jittery, fraught entity. A seven-headed, clingy beast. No one wants to be separated, again. No one wants to be alone, in the great wide universe. Being on a team is one thing.

 

Fighting alone? It's terrifying.

 

Lance sighs as he roams into the kitchen. He pours himself a tall glass of water. Everyone else is in their bedrooms— although Lance doubts they're sleeping. He takes a sip from his cup. Shuts his eyes, pretends he's drinking from the tap in his mother's kitchen. Then he hears footsteps, and jerks into awareness.

 

"Who—?"

 

"Sorry," says a raspy voice, and Lance slumps in relief. Keith ducks through the doorway, his hair wet, skin shower-pink. He smells like soap and almonds. Lance absently wonders if Keith is borrowing his shampoo. "I just finished at the training deck and washed up. Didn't mean to startle you."

 

"You didn't," Lance says immediately, though they both know it's a lie. He coughs, awkwardly, and says, "You shouldn't be training so late. You'll, like, overwork yourself."

 

"Well," Keith says, without bite, "You never know what could happen."

 

Lance stays silent. Because that’s true. Keith does, too, and Lance, at a loss, simply watches on as he begins to card through his soppy, knotted hair. It's longer, now. Lance's mullet jokes are running on thin ice. _Another thing to miss_ , Lance thinks, lamely.

 

Keith continues to struggle, and Lance can't—for the life of him— look away. _Just what is this, exactly?_ Then, because he's probably lost his mind, he blurts: "Let me."

 

Keith stares, his mouth hanging open. Lance wants to catapult himself into space. But instead, he does something even more scary. He clears his throat, and gestures for Keith to follow him into the common room.

 

And— maybe Keith has caught this star-fever too, because, he actually. Follows. Lance.

 

_Shit._

 

Lance very un-casually drapes himself onto the couch. Keith, who's never seemed to grasp any of Lance's hints or ideas before, somehow understands the situation. He crouches onto the floor, facing away from Lance, but still sitting practically between his legs. Lance swallows, oddly nervous. Which is silly, and ridiculous, because he's brushed his sisters' and cousins' hair before, just like this. 

 

But his emotions are currently going haywire. They're processing all weird and wrong.  Lance doesn't get it, though. _It’s only Keith._ This should be nothing. He's touched people before. He's even kissed a girl— at a party, once— and she'd been curled even closer to him than Keith is, now.

 

And yet— his hands are shaking when he brings them to the crown of Keith's head. He mumbles, "I should've grabbed a comb," and Keith's shoulders seize. 

 

Then, Lance runs his fingers down.

 

It's— _technically_ easy work. Keith has soft, smooth hair. No curls or waves. After a few minutes, Lance has worked the tangles out. But his palms linger. He's not… ready to let go.

 

Or something. 

 

Keith shivers under the soft touch. Lance's heart stammers.

 

And frankly,  _what the hell?_ Is this some sort of wormhole, PTSD-bred attraction? Is this Stockholm Syndrome? Is _this_ —?

 

"I'm sorry," Keith murmurs, at length, and Lance's hands go still. "I didn't mean to trick anyone. I didn't— about. Myself. I didn't know."

 

Suddenly, Lance's chest hurts. Keith's voice is so hoarse and hesitant. And Lance— Lance _knows_ there's a right thing to do. He should say, "You're human," should say, "you're still one of us." Should comfort the boy he's holding, cradling— _in your arms, in my hands_. He should tell Keith something poignant, profound: "I don't care if you're a paladin or an alien. None of that matters. You're Keith. And that's that."

 

But Lance has never been one for grand speeches, or wondrous, soul-searching inspirations. He's always been more simple. 

 

 _The truth is the most beautiful gift you can give_ , his mother would often tell him. _Just be honest, mi querido._

 

So, Lance breathes in, and says, "I'm sorry, too."

 

Keith asks, "For what?"

 

_For this._

 

And then, Lance is moving by instinct. He twines Keith's feathery hair aside, and leans down and forward, so his lips ghost along the other boy's nape. Keith trembles, makes a quiet, surprised sound, and Lance kisses him, there, against the bare curve of bone. 

 

Keith groans, falling back into the touch. It takes all of Lance's willpower to pull away. 

 

When he does, he whispers, "You're _you._ Y'know? And sometimes I can't stand you. But—”

 

_You're like going to the ocean. It’s deep and strange and scary. But I’d be crazy to leave._

 

"Yeah?" Keith asks, turning to meet his eyes.

 

“But even so,” Lance confesses, "I wouldn't change a thing."

**Author's Note:**

> the "i don't care if you're a man or an alien" quote is literally taken from coffee prince, aka one of the most romantic kdramas ever. youtube the scene and cry with me. think of klance, and cry with me
> 
> PS. if you enjoyed, pls do leave a comment! they mean the world ;o;


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